Iwaoi | Damaged

Chapter six: "The meadow"

    There a was noise that he couldn't hear. It was deafness that wasn't quite the epitome. Everything was a soundless buzz. White noise?
Nothing made sense.
He laid on his unkempt bed and stared at the ceiling above him. The rims of his eyes were swollen. He'd cried again.

As he had everyday for the past week.
He rolled over, grasping at the necklace that dropped heavily from his chest.

The last conversation he had with Oikawa replayed in his head. It ate at him. Devouring the little sense of lucidity he kept intact. It was the cliche condemnation of;
I need space...It's better for the both of us...I told you I didn't want to hurt you...I'll still love you...
Iwaizumi knew very well that Oikawa was the one being hurt. He tried to put blame on himself so he wouldn't feel bad for him. And he hated it.
He wanted to talk to him, but he didn't want to rile him up again.

    He hadn't come back to get his things. Most likely he was still in the hospital. Iwaizumi tried to shake the thought of him. Though he felt that if he did, he would come to deeply regret it. He hadn't come out of the loft for anything. He hadn't even answered his phone. He pushed himself up from the bed and threw his legs over the side. He rubbed his face and looked down at his feet. As if to reassure himself that what had happened was a dream.
Oh how he wished it was.

    He clenched his teeth and balled his fist. Angry at himself for letting it come to this. He couldn't recall how many times he got angry. Angry at being so useless. What good was he for? Except hurting the people he cared about. His feeling of sadness being replaced by utter anger. He kept it caged away, but it was still there. Clawing to get out. He kicked the nightstand, sending the surface contents flying off into the corner. A black journal peaked from under the mess now splayed in the floor. It wasn't recognizable. He reached over and picked it up.

    Oikawa was scribbled in cursive on the font of the hardcover. It was thick, though not many pages had been written on. Thirty at the most.

    Iwaizumi flipped open the cover and began reading. Most were accounts of how he'd enjoyed the days he spent with Iwaizumi. His face was a glower. He pressed his lips together.

Nothing but blank pages. He flipped until he reached the end of the book. There were three pages, the writing was smaller than the rest of the notebook. He folded the notebook under and studied the page.

The meadow, was titled above the first paragraph. Iwaizumi plopped back onto the mattress and began to peruse the pages.

I'm glad that I got to see him again. Even in the most horrid of ways. Truly I am. Though I'm constantly scared by the thought of him leaving. I've seen the fields and felt the breezes of the meadow. I've smelt the nectar from the Zinnias. This scenery, yet so serene, is truly hell for me. I know I'm closer. When the time comes I want to spend my days there with him by my side. But not to soon. Too many people will miss him. I want to tell him about these dreams. Dreams of which he won't believe.
I don't want him to be scared for me. It's better when he's smiling. I love to see him smile...

    Iwaizumi slammed the notebook down on the bed. Tears welded in the corners of his eyes.
He thought Oikawa could tell him anything. He had no idea what was running through that mind of his. Apparently he wanted to tell him everything.

Guilt.

The only thing he felt.
Was that he was somehow responsible for what happened to him. He wanted to see him. But after their scuffle it would be hard to talk to him normally.

Tara had stopped by sometimes last week, during her busy schedule, in an effort to enlighten him on Oikawa's condition. From what he was told he seemed to be doing better.
He was relieved.